


Eyes of Gold

by CryBabyPorcelain



Series: Demon AU [2]
Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Awkward Romance, Blow Jobs, Character Death, Demon!Sly, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-17 22:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3545678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CryBabyPorcelain/pseuds/CryBabyPorcelain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He stood at roughly 5'7, with brilliant blue hair that spilled over his shoulders. His gold eyes seemed to glow and could look right through you, and he wore an expression that went well with the condescending air about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Initial Encounter

  1. Nothing is going to happen.
  2. This is a waste of time.
  3. There is no such thing as demons.



These were the three things Noiz repeated to himself as he gathered the required materials.

He'd spent the previous night scrolling through creepypasta sites and horror forums when he came across a post titled “ **HOLY FUCKING SHIT THIS ACTUALLY WORKS!!!** ” With a shrug, he clicked into it and skimmed it's contents. The post was a list of detailed instructions on how to summon a demon.

Noiz scoffed at the very thought of it, but he kept reading. He'd read a few different summoning methods, but this one was unique. Given one or two cliché factors, the chant and the candles, for example, not to mention the very horror-movie addition of a fell length mirror, the rest of it seemed so random.

Scrolling down to the bottom of the page, Noiz found a few comments had been left, all by people claiming to have tried it. Not a single one said it hadn't worked, though Noiz suspected them all to be lying. Demons didn't exist, and if they did, wouldn't they get pissed off at being summoned by bored teenagers? It also struck him as strange that there were so many reports of it working, but not a single comment documenting what happened after the demon appeared.

Still, there was no denying the curiosity that began to eat away at him. He sat up most of the night thinking about it. What would it be like to summon a demon? Probably a really bad idea, but if the commenters were telling the truth and hadn't been ripped to shreds by the demon, then what was the harm?

He finally made the decision to get some sleep at around 4 am, leaving all thoughts of demons pinned in the tab.

When he woke up the following afternoon, he found he was unable to take his mind off that post. That was when he solidly decided he was going to try it. If something happens, it happens. If not, oh well.

He pulled up the pinned post, quickly scanning though it.

It said that the ritual could take place at any time, but it worked better in the dark. He'd need a full length mirror, two candles, a piece of white string long enough to tie around his thumb and some food to be left as offerings.

Noiz had to go and buy some candles, but the rest could be found around his apartment. Though, he supposed he should buy some food, since something seemed wrong about serving reheated delivery pizza to a demon and he couldn't be bothered to cook pasta. So, while he was out he picked up something called Devil's food cake. It seemed appropriate.

By the time he got back, the sky was slowly inking into blackness. While he waited for the outside world to darken, Noiz searched his kitchen drawers for a box of matches and some string.

He found the string first, tying it around his thumb, not quite tight enough to cut off the circulation, just under his knuckle, like the post said.

His matches were a little harder to find. He cursed to himself, knowing that there was definitely a box somewhere. An almost-full one, too. He slammed the last drawer shut, deciding to look elsewhere. He eventually found the matches in the living room, down the side of the couch. Apparently, that's where everything is when it's not where you put it.

Loosing the matches had made time pass without his realising. The world outside his window was now entirely black.

Noiz nodded to himself, returning to the kitchen to put the cake on a plate with a cake fork before moving into his bedroom and placing the cake on his bedside table. He sat himself cross legged in front of the mirror in the corner of his room, carefully placing each candle on either side of him, but not lighting them yet.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself. “Hoheo taralna, rondero tarel.” he whispered. He struck a match and lit the candle to his right before turning back to the mirror, staring into his own eyes. “Hoheo taralna, rondero tarel.” he repeated, striking another match and lighting the candle to his left. He closed his eyes, whispering the nonsensical words once more.

Then he waited five seconds before opening his eyes, staring into the mirror and beginning to chant. “Hoheo taralna, rondero tarel. Hoheo taralna, rondero tarel. Hoheo taralna, rondero tarel.” Those same words, over and over and over.

Finally, after three solid minutes of chanting, he grew silent.

A minute passes. Then another. Noiz sighed to himself. “I don't know what I was expecting.” he muttered under his breath, climbing to his feet.

“Me, probably.”

Noiz spun in his heel, turning to find a man sat quite comfortably on his bed, digging in to the cake that had been left on the table.

“Good choice in offering, by the way. I freaking love this cake.”

Noiz could do nothing but stare on perplexed as the man before him devoured the chocolatey mess. “Who are you?” he asked.

The man looked up, his expression changing from an almost smug grin to a puzzled glare. “Seriously?” he drawled. “You freaking called me here. You _know_ who I am.”

Noiz blinked. Either the summoning worked and this man was a legitimate demon, or somehow, someone had pulled an exceedingly elaborate prank on him. Though, it did seem like an awful lot of trouble to go through for just some dumb prank. “Then, what's your name?” he substituted.

Shaking his head, the apparent demon swallowed that last bit of cake and tossed the empty plate haphazardly onto the bedside table, making it clatter loudly. “To speak a demon's name is to have power over them.” he replied, getting to his feet.

Now that he was stood at full height, Noiz took the chance to get a better look at him. He stood at roughly 5'7, with brilliant blue hair that spilled over his shoulders. His gold eyes seemed to glow and could look right through you, and he wore an expression that went well with the condescending air about him.

“Is that really true?” asked Noiz, raising an eyebrow.

The demon cackled. “You're not as gullible as you seem, kid.” he snorted with a smirk, approaching Noiz. His smirk that only seemed to deepen when he caught sight of Noiz's left hand. He grabbed his wrist, pulling his thumb into view. “You believed this shit, though.” He started cackling to himself again, letting Noiz yank his wrist back. “I only included that to see how many dumb fucks would actually do it.” he explained. “Humans are so gullible.”

Noiz took a small step back, suddenly regretting every life choice that had led to this ridiculous situation. He tried to make it all sink in.

Before him stood a demon. A demon that he had summoned using instructions off a forum that was just supposed to be creepypasta and as weird as it seemed, the only thing running through his mind was 'what now?' He'd successfully managed to summon this demon, but what was supposed to happen next?

“So,” Noiz spoke, snapping out of his thoughts. “how do I address you?”

The demon's smirk faltered slightly, and for a fraction of a second, Noiz could have sworn he almost looked shocked. In no time at all, that smirk was back in place and the demon had returned to sitting on the bed, leaning back on his arms. “Sly.” he answered.

“Sly.” Noiz repeated.

“And you're Noiz.” said Sly. “Or, that's what you prefer to be called, anyway.”

The two fell into silence, staring at each other. Noiz wasn't even surprised that the demon knew his name. He faintly remembered reading somewhere online that, from the moment it looked at you, a demon could see into your soul and tell you everything you never knew about yourself.

Noiz wasn't sure if he believed it at all, but until today, he hadn't believed in demons, either, and the possibility that this demon could see everything—his past, his thoughts, his most intimate of secrets—it scared him.

“Back on track,” Sly sat up straight, crossing his legs. “Why did you call me here?” he asked with the slight shrug of his shoulders.

“I'm assuming you aren't going to accept 'morbid curiosity' as an answer?” Noiz brought his gaze away from the demon and stared out of the window.

Sly chuckled again, his deep voice reverberating through Noiz's very being. “People don't summon demons out of curiosity, Noiz.”

“People don't. I do.”

“Noiz!” Sly snapped, bringing Noiz's full attention back to him. “There's something you want out of this. There has to be.” he got to his feet again, approaching the other. “Tell me. What is it that you want so badly you'd be willing to hand over your soul?”

Noiz froze. If the superstitions were correct, he knew. This demon _knew_ exactly what is was he wanted, which is why he was staring at him with that shit eating grin. “There might be something.” he muttered.

More silence. This time it stretched longer, Noiz's gaze flickering from Sly to the floor and back again erratically, Sly's intimidating stare never moving.

Noiz thought for a long moment. There were two things he could ask for, the thing he'd been denied from birth, or the thing he'd been taught to deny himself. Which did he want more? Would asking for the first somehow solve the second?

Sly clicked his tongue, running out of patience. “Come the fuck on, brat. It can't be that hard to think of what you want.” he drawled.

“What I want,” Noiz trailed off, turning his head and looking back out the window. “more than anything...” he frowned, biting down on his lip so hard he thought he might rip out his left labret. “I...” he turned back to Sly, fists clenched at his side. “I don't want to be alone anymore.”

Shock was the first thing to flicker across Sly's face, then uncertainty. Noiz was sure he couldn't have been the first person to ask for something like this, but Sly seemed almost reluctant to give him what he had asked for.

“That's unfair.” the demon muttered under his breath, turning his head away, teeth gritted together. He sucked a sharp breath in and sighed before Noiz could question him. “Fine,” he replied. “I'll see what I can do.”

And with that, he marched out the door like any other person would, slamming it shut and leaving a very confused Noiz stood in the middle of his bedroom.

A glance at the clock told Noiz that it was almost midnight and he should probably sleep. He didn't though. He spent the entire night lying awake thinking about his encounter with the self proclaimed demon. And still, all he could think was 'what now?'

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kuroshitsuji fans may recognise the summoning chant used. I've recently developed a thing for it, I say it all the time and I think it's starting to really piss off my boyfriend. Oops.  
> This was just supposed to be a weird smutty oneshot, but then I thought about it a little more and decided to turn it into a chaptered fic. There will be eventual smut bc I am literal filth.  
> Posted at 3:15am and not proofread so I apologise for any mistakes also all the oocness ono  
> ~Lolly xXx


	2. Erial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sly is here to stay and Noiz gets used to that.

Noiz did, eventually, manage to get some sleep. Not much though. The sun had already began it's ascent by the time he dropped off, and he awoke soon after.

His first thought of the day, much like his last thought of the night, was of that demon—Sly, he said his name was—and the stupid thing he'd asked him for.

“ _I don't want to be alone anymore._ ” Honestly, why couldn't he have thought of something better to ask for? Why, of all things, did that have to be what he'd said?

“ _I'll see what I can do._ ” is what Sly had said in reply before he left. Noiz wasn't about to claim to be an expert on the matter, but he was 90% sure that demons didn't need clearance from any higher authority when it came to making deals for human souls.

But, that being said, Noiz wasn't human, was he?

He brought that train of thought to a crashing halt before it ran away from him, leading him towards unpleasant memories.

It took him an entire ten minutes to muster up the energy to leave his bed. It seemed like today was going to be one of _those_ days.

Instead of getting up and heading to the shower, which was his initial intention, he draped the quilt from his bed over his shoulders and moved into the living room, throwing himself down on the ugly, patchwork sofa that had been there since before he moved in. He was going to get it replaced, but it was comfortable and, oddly, smelt faintly of pears.

Before turning on the television, Noiz considered his options. He could either lay on the sofa all day, watching increasingly tedious shows until he eventually wanted food and had to get up, or he could actually leave his apartment. Go outside, find something interesting to do, talk to people.

He considered it for less than a moment before sighing and reaching over to the TV set, switching it on. What was the point in going out? There was nothing that could be done outside that he couldn't do at home in his pyjamas.

And who knows? Maybe the demon would come back today.

Noiz wasn't sure when he had let his life get to the point that he was anticipating a visit from a demon, of all things, but there was no point in thinking too much of it now.

He let out a sigh, forcing himself to concentrate on the drivel being spewed by some middle-aged woman wearing far too much make up and crying crocodile tears while three other women tried comforting her.

“ _It's like being completely numb, it's awful!”_ she bawled.

Noiz scowled, reaching for the remote. “How would you know?” he growled, switching the channel. He flicked through stations for a while before finally settling on a too-easy quiz show that the contestants were making a total mess of.

* * *

“This is what you do in your spare time?”

Noiz must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he remembers is hearing a deep voice directly above him. He opened his eyes to find Sly leaning over him, smirking as he was the night before, hands on his hips. “I've normally done some work by now.” he replied in a groggy voice he barely recognised as his own.

Sly nodded with an expression that said 'Sure you have' and it pissed Noiz off. “Why's today the exception?” asked the demon, cocking his head to one side.

“I don't have the motivation for it.” Noiz answered honestly with the slightest shrug of his shoulders. He saw no reason to lie to the demon, and even if he did, Sly could probably see right through him anyway.

Sly chuckled lowly. “Shall I arrange some cheerleaders to cheer you on?” he offered, making tiny movements with his arms as if he were shaking pompoms.

Noiz visibly grimaced. “Demon cheerleaders don't appeal to me.” he replied, earning another deep laugh in response.

“I make one hell of a cheerleader, thank you very much.” Sly teased.

Noiz ignored the pun, finally pulling himself into a sitting position and letting the quilt pool on the floor as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Is there a reason that you're here?” he asked, maybe a little too sharply.

“Oh, yeah. I live here now.” Sly said is as nonchalantly as if it were such a normal occurrence.

“Live?” Noiz raised an eyebrow.

“Well,” Sly shrugged his shoulders. “Not so much _live_. More exist. Whatever I'm doing, I'm doing it here.”

“Here?”

With a frown, Sly folded his arms, sitting himself next to Noiz on the sofa. “Am I unwelcome?” he bit back.

“Wouldn't have summoned you if that were the case.” Noiz responded, coolly.

Sly cackled, throwing his legs up over Noiz's lap, making it quite clear that he was here to stay, invitation or none.

Noiz wasn't going to complain. After all, he had wished to not be alone. And he supposed living with a demon might be slightly easier than living with a regular person, provided Sly doesn't do any weird sacrificial shit in his apartment. He was willing to put up with him, at the very least.

Letting out a sharp sigh through his nose, Noiz tried to move Sly's legs off his lap. “I suppose I should show you around.” he said.

“No need.” was the reply he got.

“Then, at least help me set the spare room up for you?”

“I'll sleep in your bed with you.”

“That's not normal.”

“Do you care?”

He had a point. Noiz hadn't cared for normality thus far, why start now?

So, that became his life. Living with a demon purely because he needed to know if that silly creepypasta would actually work or not, and because when asked what he wanted, enough to sell his soul, he responded with “ _I don't want to be alone anymore._ ”

The first few days were… difficult, to say the least. Sly was moody, messy, restless, prone to tantrums when he couldn't get his own way and far too fond of pouting, which was the worst. He moved too much in his sleep, and when he was still he was way too close.

There were times when he'd vanish with no word, then come home at any random hour and demand food.

He refused to simply be content with pizza and pasta, which meant Noiz actually had to shop and, since he didn't trust Sly not to burn down the apartment, cook.

There was the odd occasion where Sly would come to bed hours after Noiz had finally got to sleep and throw himself over the other, effectively jolting him awake for no other reason than mere boredom.

Then, there were the times when Sly seemed like a completely different person. His gaze seemed to soften, his voice didn't seem as deep or as sharp and his entire demeanour seemed a lot gentler. These times never lasted long—an hour at most—and Sly seemed to avoid him for hours afterwards.

Needless to say, life with Sly needed some adjustments, but as the days flowed into weeks, Noiz found himself becoming used to the demon.

Noiz never did ask him what he meant by “I'll see what I can do.” It hardly seemed important, though he did wonder, occasionally. Perhaps Sly had another roommate he needed to inform, or maybe he really did need permission from a higher up. His mother, maybe? He chuckled at the ridiculous thought of Sly asking his mother if he could move out.

“What are you laughing at?”

Noiz looked up from his laptop to find Sly slouched over the table with his head laying on his arms, glaring at him through his fringe.

“Nothing.” Noiz replied, going back to work. Though he loved what he did, sometimes it seemed way too easy. Half the people who hired him to hack these companies could probably do it themselves. Honestly, was internet security not such a big deal anymore?

Noiz quickly got the information he needed and logged out of the site undetected. He was about to open a new email requesting his services when a sudden weight on his back stopped him from moving.

“I'm bored!” whined Sly, draping himself over Noiz in a way that would ensure he didn't do anything but sit there. “Entertain me!”

With a muted sigh, Noiz resigned himself to the fact the he was going to have a demon literally on his back until he found a way to keep him happy. “How do you suppose I do that?” he drawled, not even attempting to push Sly off.

Sly shrugged, despite the fact that Noiz couldn't see him, and made a sound in the back of his throat that was supposed to mean 'I don't know'. “Let's go out. You _never_ leave the apartment!” he suggested.

Noiz considered it briefly. He wasn't fond of going outside unless it was unavoidable, but if it kept Sly quiet, he guessed it wouldn't be too terrible. “Fine.” he muttered.

Within an instant the weight was off him and he was being pulled to his feet. Honestly. Sometimes Sly's actions were better suited to a toddler than a demon.

Giving him just about enough time to pull on his shoes and a jacket, Sly pulled Noiz out of the apartment and down the hall to the elevator, clicking his tongue in annoyance when Noiz reminded him that it didn't work.

Still, taking the stairs didn't delay them that much. Noiz only lived on the third floor, so it wasn't like the few steps down were that much of an effort.

Once they were out of the building, Noiz wrenched his arm out of Sly's grip, informing the demon that he did not need to be pulled around before stuffing his hands into his pockets and starting towards town in the Eastern district.

Although he rarely left his apartment, Noiz wouldn't say that he hated going into town. Quite the opposite. He enjoyed wandering aimlessly through the streets. There were even one or two cafés with staff who knew him by name. Noiz liked the town, but he rarely saw any reason in going anywhere.

Noiz stopped dead when he felt someone grab his arm. He turned to find Sly looking almost panicked. “What?” he asked.

“Not that way.” Sly replied.

Noiz raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“I don't like the Eastern district, let's just go this way.”

“Why don't you—”

“I just _don't_!” Sly snapped, turning on his heel and marching off in the opposite direction.

Noiz frowned, slightly confused by Sly's outburst. Not that he wasn't prone to them. Something was clearly bothering him, but Noiz wasn't going to push it. “Okay.” he muttered, following after the demon.

After a considerable amount of walking, Noiz found himself following Sly into the Southern district.

Sly moved confidently through the small crowd, weaving in and out of people with ease while Noiz kept having to awkwardly dodge teenagers that were too engaged in their coils to actually watch where they were going.

“In here!” called Sly as he grabbed hold of Noiz's arm, tugging him into a darkened building. It looked almost abandoned, the tell-tale sign of that not being the case was the lone neon sign hanging over the door that simply read 'That Place'.

Music blasted loud enough to drown out Noiz's own thoughts. He scrunched his nose as he followed Sly towards the bar. He wouldn't exactly call this place sanitary. There was a prominent smell, people doing who knows what in the back where the lights didn't quite reach and everything seemed sticky. Still, Sly looked happy.

He leant over the bar and ordered in a loud voice, instantly catching the barman's attention, he smiled at him and got straight to it, despite the multiple other orders being yelled at him. He spoke to Sly with such familiarity that Noiz wondered if this is where the demon came to when he disappeared.

“Here.”

A small glass of translucent blue liquid was pushed into Noiz's hand. He raised an eyebrow and looked up at Sly, expecting an answer.

Sly chuckled, leaning in and speaking into Noiz's ear. “It's blueberry flavoured.” he explained.

“It looks like Windolene.” Noiz replied.

With another chuckle, Sly downed his drink, slamming the empty glass down on the bar and vanishing onto the dancefloor.

Noiz hoisted himself onto a barstool, watching Sly force himself into the group of energetic dancers and looking down into his glass when he lost sight of him. He frowned, lifting the glass to his nose to sniff at it's contents. It didn't smell unpleasant. Sugary, if anything, like alcopop, which is probably what it was.

Noiz didn't particularly enjoy drinking in the first place and alcopops usually had a high alcohol volume. Still, with a sigh, Noiz managed to knock back half of the drink.

It was sweet. Way too sweet. He didn't know what actual blueberries even tasted like, but he was pretty sure it wasn't like this. He put the glass on the bar, wiping his mouth with his sleeve as he got off the stool.

A chuckle caught his attention, and he looked over to his right expecting to see Sly. What he found instead was a girl who didn't look old enough to be there. “You okay?” she asked.

Noiz nodded, walking passed her and heading the way he saw Sly go.

It didn't take long to find him, jumping high and flicking his hair, gyrating his hips and twisting his body. Sly turned, smirking as he caught sight of Noiz. He reached forward, managing to catch hold of his arm and pull him into the throng of jumping bodies. He yelled something that Noiz assumed was supposed to be “Dance with me.” but was drowned out by the thrumming bass and heavily autotuned voice that blasted through the speakers.

Noiz moved in a way that wasn't exactly awkward, but showed that he clearly did not frequent clubs. He saw more than heard Sly laughing at him. He glared but kept on dancing, watching Sly.

The demon put a lot of effort into his moves, keeping perfect time with the beat and singing along fluently, even though Noiz was pretty sure the song wasn't in Japanese. Just how often did Sly come here?

As the music crossfaded into a new song, Noiz tried to edge away from the dancefloor. If Sly wanted to dance he could carry on, but Noiz was perfectly content to sit by the bar and wait for him to wear himself out so they could go home.

He was about the push his way out when Sly once again grabbed hold of him, pulling him closer this time.

“Dance with me.”

Noiz heard him this time. Sly was pressed against him, arms thrown over his shoulders as he swung them back into the centre of attention. The beat was a lot slower to this song, allowing Sly to sway and rock them at a relatively low speed. He saw some girls over Noiz's shoulder gushing over them. He winked and the girls giggled, turning away.

Though Noiz had no idea what Sly was playing at, he allowed it to happen, letting the demon lead the dance.

Sly didn't even look at him. He kept them too close, resting his forehead on Noiz's shoulder as they moved to the slow, steady beat. He kept his eyes tightly closed and suddenly he wasn't in this club anymore, he wasn't a demon anymore. The body pressed against his was the one guiding this dance, swinging him around with a sweet smile.

His fingers gripped the back of Noiz's jacket tightly, holding onto him as if he thought he was going to disappear.

As the song drew to a close, Noiz pulled away slightly, leaning down to ask if Sly was alright.

“Stay.” was all the demon said, pulling him back.

“Sly?” Noiz pulled away again, caught off guard by Sly's strange behaviour for the second time that day.

“Just stay.” Sly whispered, moving a hand back to gently stroke across Noiz's jaw. “Please.” He pushed himself up on his toes, bringing their mouths together as he wrapped his arms back around Noiz's shoulders.

Noiz faltered for a moment, before returning the embrace and leaning into Sly's kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact; the dance at the club wasn't supposed to come until waaaaaay after, but since I hate writing random fillers everything is going to happen a hell of a lot sooner, so this fic will be shorter and less in danger of me giving up on it! Yay!  
> Also, the dance at the club was dreamt up when I was listening to a song and imagined these losers dancing to it and having a total "holy crap I actually might have feelings for you" moment and I thought it was super cute.  
> This chapter shares it's title with the song I imagined them dancing to. It's Erial, I'm gonna say be Megurine Luka because I don't know the name of the producer, but the sm number is sm17026004 or you can find it on youtube at watch?v=tZY7qQo2Nng  
> If Any of you guys wanna hit me up on tumblr, you're always welcome, I'm marianasnoiz.tumblr.com  
> ~Lolly xXx


	3. A Demon's Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonight wasn't supposed to end like this. But accidents happen, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some light NSFW stuffs, just fyi.

Somewhere between the first kiss and the fifth, Noiz had lost track of where they even were. He faintly remembered Sly guiding them away from the dancefloor and out into the open air.

As soon as the breeze hit him, his head began to spin. He didn't believe his alcohol tolerance to be that low, but clearly it wasn't all that high either, judging from the way his body seemed sluggish and heavier than usual.

They made their way through darkened streets, unfamiliar to Noiz but easily navigated by Sly.

Noiz didn't regain his bearings until they were back to their building, Sly pulling Noiz's key from the other's pocket and pressing it against the magnetic lock, pulling Noiz into the entrance with him.

They tripped up the stairs and collided with walls and, not for the first time that night, Noiz had to wonder just how strong those drinks had been.

Sly pulled Noiz through the corridor and fumbled with the key before finally managing to get the damn door open. They tumbled into the apartment, Noiz somehow saving both of them from hitting the ground.

Smiling up at Noiz, Sly wrapped his arms around the back of the other's neck, pulling himself up to press his lips against Noiz's. He took a step back, grinning into the kiss when the taller man followed suit. He led them through the living room and into the bedroom, pulling Noiz down with him as his legs hit the edge of the bed and he collapsed onto the mattress.

Breaking the kiss, Noiz's lips found their way to Sly's throat, kissing and nibbling while his hands stroked up the sides of the demon's waist and ribs, pulling up his loose fitting shirt.

Sly chuckled lowly, one hand grabbing a fistful of Noiz's blond hair, the other bunching in his shirt. He tugged, trying to pull Noiz's shirt up and off his body.

Noiz pulled away, sitting up on his knees and doing the work for Sly, pulling off his shirt and discarding it onto the floor. His hands snaked back under Sly's shirt, working it off slowly before throwing it to join his own.

Looking down, Noiz drank in the sight of the demon he was straddling. Sly's face was flushed, be it from the alcohol or the situation, Noiz was unsure, his eyes giving off their usual alluring glow, but with more spice, more passion, his hair flared out in gentle wisps around his shoulders. Noiz smirked as he leaned back in, lips going right back to their place on Sly's throat.

Tracing Sly's throat with his tongue, Noiz was all too happy to hear the hushed gasps and little hums the demon gave. He stopped when he found a gentle throbbing under Sly's skin, smiling at the discovery. “You have a pulse.” he commented, lowly.

“Of course I do!” Sly snapped back.

With a chuckle, Noiz continued dragging his tongue in intricate patterns along Sly's skin, down his neck and onto his chest, slowly making his way further down and very much enjoying the way Sly squirmed beneath him, arching away from the ticklish sensation. His hands brushed up the demon's torso, stroking over his soft skin as his licks turned to kisses, his lips reaching the waistband of Sly's skinny jeans. He continued laying kisses just under Sly's navel, raking his fingers down the demon's chest and stomach before unbuttoning the jeans, pulling down the zip with his teeth and yanking the restricting denim off Sly's hips.

Before Sly could react, Noiz had pulled the jeans off his legs and tossed them onto the floor. He pulled himself up, only to be pushed back down by a firm hand in the middle of his chest. “Let me—” he started.

“No,” Noiz crawled back up until he was face to face with the demon, smirking. “Let _me_.” He pressed his lips against Sly's for a fraction of a second, before returning to his original position and peeling back Sly's underwear. The demon was almost at full hardness, coaxing yet another chuckle from the blond. “Are all demons this easy to arouse?” he teased.

“Stop talking.” grumbled Sly as he threw an arm over his eyes.

For once, Noiz listened, wrapping a hand around the base of Sly's dick and putting his mouth to better use. He gently sucked on the head while pumping the shaft in a slow, steady rhythm.

Sly took shallow breaths through gritted teeth. He let out a sharp gasp or a weak moan at every flick of Noiz's tongue, and it took all his willpower not to thrust up into the other's mouth. The only sounds in the room were Noiz's soft sucks and the little pleased moans that fell from Sly's lips, growing slightly in volume every time Noiz decided to take him in a little deeper or suck a little harder.

Gaining confidence as he went, Noiz was soon able to remove his hand, taking the whole of Sly's cock into his mouth. His hands fell to the demon's thighs, fingers digging in very lightly as he spread them further apart.

Allowing his body to be moved, Sly peeked out from under his arm, meeting Noiz's gaze. He quickly moved his arm back, screwing his eyes shut. He drew quick breaths, whimpering as he felt Noiz's fingers begin to gently massage his inner thighs. His free hand moved to thread itself into hair that was not quite long enough, not quite soft enough as Sly slowly rolled his hips, moaning softly and losing himself in the all too familiar, but far too different feeling.

“ _Does it feel good, Aoba?”_

With a loud gasp, Sly sprung up, pushing Noiz away. “S-Stop, we need to stop!” he cried, moving himself away as he yanked his boxers back up and reached down to grab his jeans and force his legs into them.

Noiz sat back on his heels, wiping away the trail of saliva that had ran down his chin with the back of his wrist. “Alright.” he replied, simply.

“I'm sorry, I can't do this.” Sly got to his feet, shaking his head. He snatched his shirt up off the floor and pulled it over his head as he spoke. “I know you're not him, and it's not fair of me to pretend, but I can't stop it! I just—” Realising that he'd said too much, Sly stopped himself from talking by biting into his lower lip and taking a deep breath. “I have to go.” he blurted, bolting from the room.

Noiz could do nothing but sit there and stare as the demon fled, frowning when he heard to door slam. Should he go after him? No, it was probably best to let him cool off and come back in his own time.

With a sigh, Noiz kicked off his pants and slid beneath the covers. Sly would likely be home by morning and, with a bit of luck, Noiz might actually be able to get some sleep.

* * *

Sly didn't even think. He just ran. He had absolutely no idea where he was going, but he couldn't stay in Noiz's apartment after that.

He darted around corners, avoiding what few people were out at this time of night as he tore down the streets. He was just about to turn onto a familiar street when he was stopped by an arm wrapping itself around his waist.

He opened his mouth to scream at the person and demand to be let go, but someone beat him to it.

“My, my, Sly Blue.” a smooth, melodic voice sounded to his left, halting his struggles. “Whatever could you be doing here?”

Sly frowned, turning his gaze toward the voice. The man stood before him wore his usual calm smile, arms behind his back. “Surely you weren't thinking of returning to the old apartment, right?”

“He wouldn't do something that stupid.” Ah, yes. The man holding him. Sly continued to struggle, but the other's grip only tightened.

Sly growled, trying to twist out of the tight hold, but only managing to make himself feel rather sick.

“Trip, be careful. Don't hurt him.”

“He's more likely to hurt himself.”

The man in front of him smiled, pushing up his glasses. “You can put him down. He won't go anywhere, will you, Sly?”

Sly shook his head, supporting himself against the wall as Trip let him go. “What do you want, Virus?” he asked, glaring at the older man.

“Sly,” Virus ignored the question, smile dropping from his face. “You know better than hang around here.”

“I wasn't—”

“Then where were you going?”

Sly frowned, glaring at the floor. He wasn't about to spill the night's events to these two, but he couldn't come up with a decent excuse as to why he was running blindly into the Eastern district. “I don't know.” he uttered.

A chuckle. A low, sickening, smug chuckle. “You don't know where you were going, but you do know you weren't going there?” Virus wore that stuck up, condescending expression that made Sly want to break his nose. “Sly, I'm sure I don't need to remind you exactly why it's a bad idea to even be this close.”

Sly grumbled out a forced apology, turning back the way he came and trudging back towards Noiz's apartment.

“Where are you going now?” came Trip's baritone voice.

“Home.”

“Oh?” Sly swore under his breath, hearing Virus's footsteps following after him. “And where, exactly, is 'home' now?”

“None of your goddamn business!” he bit out, hastening his steps. He thanked the deity that he knew wasn't there that the two decided against following him.

* * *

When Noiz woke up, he found himself curled around a body with his nose buried in tangled blue hair.

He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a quiet groan. Looking down at Sly's sleeping form, he let out a short breath. There were a million questions that could have been running through his mind. What, exactly, cause the sudden shift in Sly's personality last night? Could it all be chalked up to the alcohol? And who was Sly referring to as 'him'? But currently, all Noiz really wanted to know was how, or why, did he end up spooning the demon? And when did Sly get in, anyway?

Deciding none of it really mattered, Noiz pulled himself out of bed as gently as possible, so as not to wake Sly, and made his way to the kitchen. No doubt Sly would be complaining that he was hungry as soon as his eyes were open.

Bacon sounded like a great idea.

As he left a pan to heat up on the stove, his mind began to wander. The events of the previous night played over and over, trying to make sense of themselves in Noiz's mind. Just when he thought he'd gotten used to the crazy demon, everything got thrown up in the air again.

He briefly pondered if he'd ever grow accustomed Sly and his moods.

He didn't have long to think before the bedroom door slammed open and out tumbled and very disoriented, groggy Sly.

“Good morning.” Noiz greeted.

“Don't talk to me.” grumbled Sly in a hoarse voice as he walked into a chair.

Well, so much for being friendly. Noiz shrugged, turning his attention back to the pan. It seemed hot enough now. Noiz reached into the fridge to pull out the bacon before tearing open the packaging and placing a few strips into the pan. It sizzled and spat, quickly filling the entire apartment in what could only be described as one of the nicest smells known to man.

Sly, who had been sat with his upper body draped over the table, head buried in him folded arms, looked up. “Bacon?” he spoke in a quiet voice.

“Bacon.” Noiz replied.

Silence followed. Noiz glanced over his shoulder to see Sly staring at the pan with his bottom lip caught between his sharp teeth. “I'm making some for you, too.” he sighed.

“I never said I wanted any.” Sly snapped, a little too quickly.

Noiz ignored him, turning his attention back to the stove.

Once the bacon was done cooking, Noiz split the pack between them and left the pan in the sink to be dealt with later. He placed one plate in front of Sly and carried the other to his seat at the opposite end of the table.

The pair sat in silence as Sly wolfed down the bacon in as little time as possible; Noiz preferring to _eat_ his food, rather than inhale it.

Even after both their plates were empty and had been left in the sink, the silence persisted. Sly and Noiz both sat at opposite ends of the table, not saying anything and avoiding each other's eyes. They both knew they'd have to talk about what happened last night eventually, but neither wanted to be the first to bring it up.

Sly nearly chewed a hole through his lip as he thought more and more about what he could possibly say. He'd apologise to Noiz for just up and leaving in the middle of things, but what if Noiz wanted an explanation? How was he meant to explain himself without coming off as some deranged creep who had no will to let go of his past?

Well, let's call a spade a spade, that's all he really is.

With an irritated sigh, the demon got to his feet. “Thanks for breakfast.” he muttered, walking out of the apartment and slamming the door.

Once again, Noiz just watched him leave.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wirte smut involving a demon, does that make it twice as much sin?  
> Super duper late bc my skill in writing about the sexy times and things leading up to such events are basically non existant. Also, I keep getting all hung up on how to word things and it's pretty much the least fun ever tbh. I meant to put this in last chapters notes, but alcopops are as easy to drink as soda, but the percentage is often pretty high, so please, please be careful when you're drinking them, especially if you don't have much of a tolerance. [speaks from experience]  
> New name = new sign off!  
> ~Porcelain xXx


	4. Subtle Intimidation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew the moment he saw them that they weren't to be trusted.

For a while, things went back to how they were. Noiz went back to being mostly alone, lucky to even catch a passing glimpse of Sly.

The demon was avoiding him, and as much as Noiz wanted to ask why, he knew exactly why.

He fucked up. Sure, it had been Sly who'd initiated it, but Sly had been drunk and, judging by the words he'd thrown at Noiz as he scrambled out of the room, caught up in memories. No, Noiz fucked up, big time, and he had no idea how to fix it.

But, that being said, did it need fixing? He was sure if Sly was that upset about it, he'd just leave, contract be damned.

No, something needed to be done. This silence between them was uncomfortable, he may as well be alone again. Noiz realised that he and Sly desperately needed to talk, but Noiz was asocial by nature, and hell would freeze over before Sly started a conversation. Pun not intended.

Noiz sighed heavily, closing his laptop. He was far too distracted to get any work done now. He got to his feet and headed over to the door, stepping into his shoes but not bothering to tie them, instead tucking the laces into the sides. He figured he may as well go see if there were any Rhyme games occurring nearby.

He left the apartment and descended the three flights of stairs, pulling on his beanie as he moved. He exited the building and headed in a random direction. There was likely a game on somewhere on the island, he'd just keep walking until he came across one.

Luckily, he didn't have to search for long. He'd barely been walking for ten minutes when he found a small crowd gathering around two men who were facing each other, each wearing challenging smirks and cocky auras.

“I get next game!” yelled someone in the crowed. This was followed by a series of similar shouts. This was typical, and in all likelihood, the first one to shout would absolutely not be getting next game. First come, first served meant nothing in Rhyme.

Noiz joined the crowd, sticking to the back. The last thing he wanted was to get jostled around the place by over-enthusiastic teenagers. Just like that damn club Sly dragged him to. He shook that thought from his head. The main reason he came here was to distract himself from Sly.

He watched the holoscreen above the two Rhymers in mild amusement. The one on the left was an amateur, that much was blatantly obvious by the way he threw himself headfirst into attacks and didn't bother defending himself, but he was putting up a good fight, doing a decent amount of damage and had a fair chance of actually winning.

The game lasted for about three more minutes, both parties quickly dwindling each other down to less than five percent health. Noiz found himself silently rooting for the amateur, watching him plan out his next attack. He'd have this in the bag, if he defended himself earlier, but he still had a good chance of coming out on top. Of course, Noiz would have made mincemeat of the kid, but that's neither here nor there.

The opposition attacked, depleting the amateur kid's health completely. The holoscreen vanished, and the two came back to reality, the victor smirking with folded arms while the amateur kid grit his teeth and glared at the floor. He kicked the dirt at his feet before marching off to sulk in peace and Noiz watched him go.

The victor was already calling out for another battle before the poor kid was even out of earshot. Noiz considered stepping forward and taking the arrogant prick down a peg or two, but something a short ways from him caught his attention.

Just behind the unknown Rhymer stood two almost identical men, one who seemed to be more muscle than man and the other with glasses perched on his nose, giving him a more sophisticated appearance. They appeared to be staring right at him.

As Noiz met their gaze, the shorter one leant towards his counterpart and muttered something and Noiz's stomach churned. He was suddenly incredibly uncomfortable and he had a horrible feeling he knew why. This was the exact thing he had experienced the first time he'd met Sly, sickening discomfort and intimidation, leading him to believe that the men who were now approaching him were also demons.

“Pleasant night, isn't it?” the shorter one spoke first as the pair reached him, standing at less than arms length.

Noiz cursed himself for taking a step back. “What do you want?” he asked.

The man chuckled, raising a hand to cover his mouth. “Awfully suspicious, aren't we, Noiz?”

“I live with a damn demon, of course I'm suspicious.” Noiz replied, giving a dark glare to the two before him.

This coaxed a smile from the man, different from the one he'd been wearing prior. This smile was somehow more genuine, but no less menacing. “You couldn't possibly mean our dear Sly Blue now, could you?”

 _Their_ Sly? What was that supposed to mean? Was Sly their fledgling? When Sly had told him that he'd 'see what he could do' on their first meeting, did it meant he needed their permission to stay with him? Is that even how demons worked?

With all this running through his head, the only thing Noiz could manage to pathetically mumble was “You know Sly?”

“We know Sly very well.” It seemed it was finally time for the taller one to speak, his voice nowhere near as calm and melodic as his partner's, it was deeper, darker almost. “ _Very_ well.”

Noiz hardly saw the reason for him to repeat himself unless he was trying to get under Noiz's skin, make him jealous, possibly? It didn't work. What did Noiz have to be jealous about? It's not like Sly was dating him or something stupid like that. He could do as he pleased, it wouldn't bother Noiz.

“You have me at a disadvantage.” he muttered, monotonously. “You clearly know me, but I can't say Sly has ever mentioned you.” He channelled enough venom into the last word for it to be subtle, but still quite clearly there. It seemed he had dropped his anxiety and replaced it with his usual rude façade.

“Oh, of course. How rude of us.” The shorter man injected. “We never introduced ourselves. My name is Virus, and my friend here is Trip.”

“Yo.” Trip smiled and raised a hand in greeting.

“It's very nice to finally meet you, Noiz.”

Noiz scoffed. “Wish I could say the same.” he replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets where he could ball them into tight fists without being seen. Hardly two minutes had passed since he met them, and he already hated these two and their faux-friendliness.

Clicking his tongue and sighing loudly, Trip faced his partner with a frown. “I don't think he likes us very much.” he said, laying on the dissatisfactory tone a little too thickly.

Virus simply shook his head. “So quick to judge.”

The two of them acted like a pair of scolding parents. Like his—

No. Less of that. Don't go there.

“Well, that hardly matters.” Virus spoke up, taking off his glasses to clean them. “We were simply wondering how Sly was doing.”

Noiz couldn't bring himself to tell them that he hadn't seen Sly for at least two weeks.

And it seemed he didn't need to. “Unless,” Virus placed his glasses back on his nose. “he hasn't been around so much lately?”

Noiz said nothing.

Virus took that as confirmation. “Oh,” he chuckled lowly. “it seems he hasn't changed at all.”

“Not in the slightest.” Trip chipped in, startling Noiz a little, as he had honestly forgotten Trip was even there, he was so taciturn.

“What do you mean?” Noiz asked before he could tell himself to just _shut the fuck up and go home already!_

Virus smiled, eyes closing, making his smile seem sinister. Or more sinister than usual. “He did the exact same thing when he was human.” he explained.

Noiz frowned. “He was human?” _Stop asking questions!_ Noiz and his mind seemed to be two separate beings at this point.

Trip hummed. “He was dating this guy,” he drawled. “real cute guy, too. What was his name again? Crystal? Something like that?” He looked to Virus, who simply shrugged. “Something big happened between them—he never really told us what—so he just left. Walked away from the conflict.”

“What happened?” _For fuck's sake!_

Virus's smile dropped, not exactly to a frown, he was simply expressionless. “He became a demon.” he answered.

Noiz was about to open his mouth when something bounced off Trip's shoulder.

“Oi, assholes!”

Noiz whipped around. There was no mistaking that voice.

Sly appeared beside them, scowling. “Quit fucking talking about me.” he grouched, snatching the old, worn converse he'd thrown off the ground and yanking it onto his foot, stamping a little to push it on better.

“It was all good things, Sly.” Virus assured.

“I'm sure it was.” scoffed the blue-haired demon. “The fuck are you even doing here?”

That smile was back, and it was just as sickening when it was directed at someone else. “We could very well ask you the same question, Sly.” Virus's tone was light, but Noiz was sure his intent wasn't. “I thought you stopped doing all this?” Noiz didn't miss the sadistic glimmer in those cold, blue eyes.

Sly clammed up, going as far as to protectively wrap his arms around himself. “Shut up, Virus.” he growled, a subtle shake in his voice.

“ _He_ never liked this, did he? Always so worried.”

“I fucking _mean it, Virus!”_

“My, my.” Virus's malicious smile only seemed to broaden. He knew what he was doing, and that much was evident. “Honestly, Sly. What would he think of you, now?”

Sly dug his nails into his jacket, frustrated, but unable to do anything about it. “I guess we'll never fucking know, _will we?”_ he spat, grabbing hold of Noiz's upper arm and dragging him away from the two.

Noiz let himself be pulled all the way back to the apartment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [cringes at Noiz's OOCness]  
> I wonder how many of you figured out who Sly's ex is (not like it's obvious or anything).  
> Just in case anyone is questioning Usui's whereabouts, this is set before Rhyme was moderated, so she's yet to exist. Also, no Usui means Rhyme is random, so before anyone points out that Noiz should have known where any Rhyme games were going on, how could he?  
> I felt really bad referring to amateur kid as amateur kid, but call a spade a spade, I guess.  
> I have a feeling you guys will love/hate next chapter...  
> ~Porcelain


	5. I Want a Moment to be Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe they could do with that talk, now.

“What the fuck did they tell you?” were the first words out of Sly's mouth, once they were safely back in the apartment. “I know they were telling you shit about me, so don't lie. What did they say?” He was upset, almost frantic, going back to scratching his bitten nails into his jacket.

Noiz assessed the situation before speaking. He wondered if telling the truth would fuel the fire, but lying could be a whole lot worse. He wished he could read Sly as well as the demon seemed to be able to read him.

“They just,” he started, taking a deep breath. “told me that you used to be human, and that you were dating someone, but something happened between you.” Emitting tiny details wasn't the same as lying, right?

Sly stared him down, lips pressed together thinly. “That was all?” he asked. “They didn't tell you what happened?”

“They said they didn't know.”

That seemed to calm him, at least a little. He let out a small groan that could have easily been a sob and covered his face with his arms, falling onto the ugly couch. He sat, hunched over with his head in his lap for what seemed like hours.

Noiz wasn't sure if he was crying, or if he had fallen asleep, but he knew he should probably leave him to it. He backed up towards the kitchen, opening a cupboard and pulling out a small pot of instant pasta. He hadn't eaten yet, today and time was getting on. He flicked on the kettle and sat up on the counter as he waited for it to boil.

He was exhausted. He was pretty sure he'd never experienced exhaustion before, but now that was the only word he could think of to describe what he was going through.

Sly exhausted him, confused him, made him wonder why anything ever happened. But maybe, in a weird way, he liked that. He definitely didn't hate it. Sly was unpredictable, childish and volatile, but Noiz found he didn't hate any of it. Maybe it was because he was also unpredictable, childish and volatile.

This whole situation was a little messed up, thinking about it. He lived with a demon, who he had made a contract with so he wouldn't be alone, then they almost slept together and the demon disappeared for a few weeks and only came back when he found Noiz talking to two other demons who seemed to know an awful lot about Sly.

Maybe, just maybe, they weren't trying to make him jealous when they said they know Sly very well. Maybe they were implying that they knew Sly in such an intimate and personal way, that they had a shared past, that they…

Noiz didn't really know where that thought was going, but he had come to something of a conclusion. Trip and Virus were definitely they ones responsible for Sly becoming a demon. And he really didn't like that.

“You should eat _real_ food, you loser.”

The sound of Sly's voice startled Noiz enough for him to jump off the counter. “I thought you fell asleep.” he said.

“Yeah, well, I didn't.” Sly had pulled a chair out from under the table with his foot and fallen into it, folding his arms on the table and resting his head in them.

Noiz said absolutely nothing as he poured the newly boiled water on his pasta pot, as he stirred it with his fork and carried it over to the table, where he sat down opposite the demon. There was so much that needed to be said, needed to be discussed, needed to be understood. And yet, there they both sat, in total silence.

It took a grand total of three minutes for Noiz to finish the small pot of pasta. He considered pulling out his laptop and getting some work done, but he still wasn't in the right frame of mind for that. And so, he continued to sit across from Sly in perfect silence, looking almost everywhere but in the demon's general direction.

It was strange how it never occurred to him before how intrusive silence was, how it filled the entire room, how it could even be a little terrifying. Even when he was alone, there was always background noise in his life. Be it music, television, or even the quiet hum of a computer left on, there was always something.

He figured that he was probably afraid of silence. That could make sense. That was a real thing, right? He made a mental note to research it later.

It was definitely at least slightly strange that he'd never realised how big a part sound played in his life. Even when he was a child, listening for any sign of movement outside his locked door.

Sound was good. Sound meant someone was there. It could be anyone. A maid, a tutor, his brother. Even, God forbid, his parents.

Yeah, right. That would be the day.

Noiz clenched his fists. He was doing it again. Thinking about _them._ He kept telling himself, they had no part in his life anymore, yet his thoughts always seemed to return to the years he spent hidden away in that cursed room.

_A cursed room for a cursed child._

“Hey,”

Once again, it was Sly's voice that pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked up, finding the demon still resting on his folded arms, peeking over the tops of them, his nose buried in his jacket.

“It's all true, you know.”

Noiz's heart rate accelerated. Had Sly been reading his thoughts? Did he hear all those awful memories? Was he _mocking_ him?

His face must have betrayed his thoughts, because Sly sighed, elaborating. “What Trip and Virus said. About me.”

Sly pushed himself up, pulling up his legs to sit cross-legged on the chair. “I was human, once. I had a boyfriend. We were dating for about three years, so it was pretty serious. But, we got into this huge fight and I stormed out.” he stopped, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. With his brow knitted tight, eyes unfocussed as he stared into space and trembling, bitten lip, he honestly looked as if he were about to cry. “And I never went back. Because I became… _this!_ ” he slammed his balled fists on the table as he said it.

Noiz's mouth was dry. He'd seen Sly get emotional before, but never to the point of heated, angry tears. “What did you fight about?” he asked, in a small voice that he wasn't even aware he was capable of.

Bitter, hollow chuckles fell from Sly's lips. “The usual.” he replied. “Rhyme. Drugs. How I 'wasn't the person he met, anymore.'” Sly's expression shifted so many times in just a few short words. It was now completely neutral. Betraying nothing. “He worried about me. Really, honestly worried about me, he… h-he...” he couldn't bring himself to say it. Tears gathered in his eyes, but he'd be _damned_ if he was going to let them fall!

Silence stretched between them once more, Sly trying to keep the tears in and Noiz having no idea what to say.

“I go see him sometimes.” Sly admitted in a croaky voice. “I watch him through the window of the bar he works at. He seems so happy now. Now that I'm...” he lost the battle as his tears began to run freely down his cheeks. “Now that I'm not there to fuck up his life.” He went back to resting his head on his folded arms, sobbing quietly.

“Do you remember the time,” Sly picked his head back up just enough for him to be understood. “I took you to that club, and you were going to head towards the Eastern district?” his voice was heavy with emotion as he spoke, words slightly slurred, but still comprehensible. “I fucking hate the Eastern district.” he growled. “Too many memories. Too much that still hurts.”

“What actually happened to you, Sly?” Noiz cut in.

Sly looked surprised, then slightly offended, and then just plain angry. “Are you—? Did you not hear my fucking monologue there?” he yelled, jumping to his feet.

Noiz shook his head. “No, I mean,” he also got to his feet, keeping a more neutral pose to counter Sly's defensive one. “what happened to _you?_ How did you become a demon?”

All of Sly's anger seemed to melt away into pure shock. He took a step back, lightly shaking his head. “I can't...” he trailed off, gasping lightly when his back hit the refrigerator. “I'm not ready… to talk about that yet...” he muttered, almost whispered.

“Do you think you ever will?”

More silence.

Sly cast his eyes to the ground, chewing hard on his bottom lip and trying to control his trembling limbs. “Maybe some day.” was his whispered reply.

Without another word, Sly violently shook his head and pushed his way past Noiz and out of the kitchen.

Noiz had honestly never felt more relieved to hear the bedroom door slam, opposed to the front door.

* * *

Noiz was surprised when Sly didn't kick him out of the bedroom when he finally decided to retire to bed in the wee hours of the morning.

Sly wasn't asleep, just curled up on Noiz's bed, on top of the blankets with his arms wound tightly around himself.

Few words were exchanged between them as Noiz swapped out his usual neon outfit for a pair of baggy, black sleep shorts and a green vest that had his name printed on the back in bold, friendly letters (a gift from a guy who called himself Noiz's friend. Noiz guessed, as far as bratty, know-it-alls go, the guy was alright.).

As Noiz situated himself on the bed, Sly rolled over and slipped under the covers, facing the far wall.

A few moments of comfortable nothingness passed between them, before Sly's still slightly croaky voice was heard. “Noiz,” he mumbled. “this is gonna be weird, but… could you, maybe… hold me?”

Noiz didn't even question it. He rolled onto his side and wrapped an arm around the demon's slim waist, pulling him back and burying his nose in soft, blue strands.

Sly sighed quietly. Noiz was warm, comforting, even. Not like _he_ used to be, but still. He felt welcome in Noiz's arms. Like he belonged there. He hadn't felt that way for a long time.

More tears gathered in his eyes as he remembered the days before he was this _beast._ Before he was literally something from a nightmare. Before was was stupid enough to…

He didn't let that thought go any further. He just took a deep breath, and concentrated on Noiz.

Noiz, who had been patient enough to listen as he prattled on about his sob story. Who had let him pour his heart out about the man he loves. _Loved._

No, loves. He would never stop loving him.

This could be it for the day, he realised. All he had to do was fall asleep without any more talking and that would be the end of it. But, he knew that wasn't going to happen.

“Thank you.” he whispered.

Noiz opened his eyes, but didn't move. “For what?” he asked.

“Listening to me.” replied the demon. “Letting me get that all off my chest, and not interrupting me.”

Noiz didn't respond.

“If you ever, y'know...” Sly's arm moved to embrace the one wrapped around his body, threading his fingers through Noiz's. “talk about things… It's the least I could do, to return the favour.”

Noiz frowned. He was not in the least bit ready to talk to anyone about anything. But, this was Sly, and he knew if he really wanted to know, he'd find out one way or another. Though, he got the distinct feeling that he'd only ever want to know directly from Noiz himself.

“Maybe some day.” Noiz repeated Sly's words, closing his eyes and letting himself surrender to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are slowly being pieced together.  
> Doesn't update in literally months, then updates twice in as many days bc that's how I roll. Also, this has been proofread, but only quickly as it's 1:20 am and I have college tomorrow, so there may be some lingering mistakes.  
> Headcanon that Noiz has Sedatephobia, a fear of silence.  
> I don't think I should have revealed all that stuff with... [ahem] Sly's ex (come on, you all know who it is, right?) yet, as I was thinking if doing an entire chapter that's just like a flashback showing exactly what went down. I'll probably still do that, at some point, to be honest.  
> Next chapter will be nicer, I promise!  
> Chapter title taken from "I'm Still Here" by Johnny Rzeznik  
> ~Porcelain xXx


	6. I'll be The Mess, You be The Medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every scar one day will heal,  
> Every tear one day will dry.

Morning came, and slowly faded into mid afternoon.

Noiz and Sly remained in bed, only leaving it's warmth when Sly finally began complaining that he was hungry. They both decided it was probably best to just order pizza and then return to the pillows and comforter.

Sly complained loudly about being hungry for the entire 30 minutes it took for their food to arrive, and continued to complain until they were both propped up against the headboard, surrounded by pillows, warmly under the thick duvet (plus an extra fleece blanket) with a pizza box in each of their laps.

They ate in silence, neither knowing what to say. Besides, after all the tension and raised voices last night, they could do with a little bit of quiet.

Noiz's laptop was perched on the end of the bed playing an old movie. A classic, Noiz had said. Sly couldn't seem to wrap his head around it, but he watched it quietly.

The movie had almost ended by the time either of them spoke, pizza boxes discarded to the floor and the two of them going back to lying down.

“Hey, Sly.” Noiz was acknowledged with a low grunt. "What's your name?"

Sly pushed himself up on his elbows, staring at Noiz with a raised eyebrow. "Have you gone wrong?" he asked.

"No," Noiz sat up, reaching out his hand to close his laptop now that neither of them were paying attention to the movie anymore. "I mean, what's your real name?"

Sly sighed quietly, letting himself fall back into his previous position briefly, before turning on his side towards Noiz and pushing his arms under the pillow. "I don't have one. Not anymore." he whispered. He wanted to drop the subject, but the look on Noiz's face begged for an explanation. "When souls become demons they lose almost everything that tied them to their human life." he explained, giving another soft sigh. "The only thing I have left from that time are memories that I'm not supposed to have."

"Then, what was it?"

Sly was silent for a few moments, frowning to himself as he turned away and hid his face in the pillow. "Aoba."

Noiz nodded, dumbly. “Aoba.” he repeated, testing the name in his own voice.

“You don't get to call me that!” snapped the demon. “It's Sly now, okay?”

“Okay.” Noiz lay himself back down behind Sly, cautiously coiling an arm around the other's waist. “If you want to be called Sly, then that's what I'll call you.” he whispered.

The pair were silent once more, content to lie in each other's company. The room around them darkened as the sun outside descended.

Noiz began to drop off, still wanting to sleep, even after spending the entire day in bed. He was vaguely aware of Sly turning over in his hold, facing him nose to nose.

“There's nothing you can tell me about yourself that I don't already know.” Sly's voice seemed distant, fading. “But sometimes it helps to talk about things like that.”

Noiz brows furrowed, a sigh falling from his lips, but even on the edge of sleep, Sly knew he was listening intently.

“I said the same thing last night, but I'm prepared to listen to you, Noiz.” Sly frowned. He came to the sudden realisation that everything he was saying was more like how he used to be, when he was human. Before everything started going wrong in his life.

“Me, too.” Noiz's voice was barely a murmur, heavy with sleep and slurring slightly. “If there's stuff… being human… that you wanna…” he kept trailing off, but his message was heard.

It made Sly smile, even if just a little. Maybe the brat wasn't as selfish as he initially thought.

Sly didn't even like thinking about being human. The things he'd done. The people he'd hurt. But he supposed it was hypocritical of him to say it help to talk and then clam up when it was turned on him.

“I wasn't a good person.” Those were his last words on the matter. He closed his eyes and feigned sleep for hours until it was finally real.

~*~

When Sly was human – or, rather, when Sly was _Aoba_ , he had been a very different person. It was like Aoba was the good twin and Sly was the evil one, that how he'd always thought of it, anyway.

None of Aoba's friends liked Sly. They hated him for taking precious Aoba's place. That much was obvious.

There was just one person who stuck by him through everything. The person he tried the hardest for. The person he hurt the most.

With a frustrated cry, Sly raked his hands into his hair, scratching harshly at his scalp as if he would somehow scratch away the memories.

He hated Aoba.

At least, he tried his damnedest to hate him. As much as he denied it, he actually missed who he used to be. He _mourned_ his former self, and everyone who knew him.

Not that they could have possibly extended him the same courtesy. They'd all finished mourning Aoba long before he died.

Except for _him._

_~*~_

Noiz didn't do talking.

Sly had already told him that there was nothing he could say about himself that the demon didn't already know, so what was the point?

He saw no sense in venting. In his opinion, all that would do is make him come off as a whiny brat.

Evidently, Sly found some benefit in talking about what bothered him, and Noiz was willing to listen to every word. But, Sly was different.

Because of Sly, Noiz found himself laden with complicated emotions. He couldn't make sense of them, let alone express them, and he had no idea what it was that triggered them, he just knew Sly was somehow responsible.

Of course, he wasn't an idiot. He knew what he was experiencing was some kind of affection for the demon. Though, even thinking it seemed absurd.

The room was dark as Noiz opened his eyes, looking over at the very demon that had been troubling his mind.

Sly was fast asleep. Or, at least, doing a very good impression. His blue hair was splayed over his face, moving gently with his breaths. Noiz's arm was still laying across Sly's middle, the demon's own hand clasped around his.

“Sly?” Noiz whispered, moving closer through no will of his own.

Sly continued to snore quietly.

Feeling confidant the demon was sleeping, Noiz rested his forehead against the other's shoulder.

“You said yourself that you already know anything I could tell you about myself,” he spoke quietly, voice muffled further by the fabric of the shirt Sly chose to sleep in (which was actually one of Noiz's, but he didn't complain). “You know about my family. About that room. And about my… my condition.” Noiz took a deep breath, unused to the tightness in his chest. “Did you know that I used to cut myself on purpose, just to see it bleed?” he admitted. His grip tightened on the sheet beneath them. “Did you know that, even after I left that room, I still felt trapped? Still _feel_ trapped.” He dug his teeth into his bottom lip to get a handle on himself, because damn it, he was _not_ going to cry over this again!

Silence fell over him as he willed the tears away. As hard as his tried to stop them, soft sobs leaked from his throat.

Suddenly, the demon laying before him turned, capturing Noiz in both arms. He held on so tight that he stole Noiz's breath, and he only loosened his grip when Noiz's sobs calmed.

“Of course I knew.” he whispered.

Noiz, shocked both that Sly had heard him and that the demon was holding his so tightly, struggled in his grasp. He collapsed back onto the pillow as Sly let him go. “You weren't supposed to—”

“But, I did.” Sly interrupted. He frowned, weaving a hand into Noiz's messy, blond hair. “I'm sorry all that happened to you, Noiz. You deserve much more.”

Noiz said nothing, just tried to maintain his usual bored look, but with the tear tracks running down his face, that wasn't going to work.

Sly sighed, inching forward. Gently, hesitantly, he pressed his lips to Noiz's. And again. And again. The contact was fleeting, but held meaning that even Sly himself wasn't sure of. He pulled the human closer and deepened the kiss, wiping away more tears as the appeared on Noiz's cheeks.

The two got even closer, tongues coming into play as Sly worked a hand under Noiz's sleep shirt, fingers running along scars, both faded and fresh.

Noiz didn't know what was happening within himself. His head was blurry and he thought for a moment that he would vomit. He let Sly guide the kiss, pulling him close, and it was only then that is really hit him.

Sly kissed him. Was still kissing him.

He closed his eyes, his hands bunching in the back of Sly's shirt. He was vaguely aware of Sly's hands on his body, hyper aware of Sly's tongue in his mouth.

Then, suddenly, the contact was broken, and Sly had jerked himself upright, facing away. “I'm sorry.” he sighed. “I can't.”

“Why not?”

“I can't… _use_ you.”

A small silence followed. Noiz took a few moments to let Sly's words sink in. Sly couldn't use him? Why not? No one else seemed to have an issue with it. “I don't care.” he replied.

“I do!” yelled Sly, whipping around to face Noiz, expression equal parts angry and hurt. “Damn it, Noiz! Don't you give a single fuck about yourself?!” The demon froze, wearing a complicated expression before turning away.

He understood.

It took God knows how long, but he finally understood the anger, the hurt and the desperation is _his_ voice, every time they had the same argument.

Sly folded himself over, hands covering his mouth. “Oh, God.” he sobbed out. “I'm a fucking idiot.”

He stayed like that for a while. Choking back sobs and spilling mumbled apologies, seemingly to no one.

Noiz was unsure how to react. He approached slowly, cautiously. He coiled two shaking arms around the distraught demon. “Do you want to talk about it?” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you're trying to sleep and your brain is like "Hey, check out all this SlyNoi fluff you should cram into that fic you haven't updated in a thousand years!"  
> I know, my characterisation is falling apart at the seams. Ugh! I need more DMMd writing practice! Also, remember when I said this chapter was gonna be nicer? I lied.  
> I've had the scene where Sly finally tells Noiz his real name since I first started writing this fic haha. I have this weird thing with this fic where it's almost romantic, but not quite, and I'm not sure if it's coming across the way I want it to.  
> We're coming close the the climax, people! Are you excite? I'm not, to be completely honest... I don't think I've done as well with this fic as I could have, also I keep writing myself into impossibly tight corners. I get really stupidly stuck, which is why it takes me so long to get chapters out.  
> Chapter title taken from Fix Me by Icon For Hire, which I listened to while writing.  
> ~Porcelain xXx  
> P.S. There are a bunch of fic authors that I really admire reading this fic, like damn you guys, I'm not worthy :')


	7. This is Primetime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One more hit and you'll get better.

Aoba was a mess when he first found him. Both physically and mentally.

A recent diagnosis had taken a serious toll on him. He'd made an appointment with his doctor due to severe migraines and the occasional loss of focus. He half expected the doctor to send him to an optician. What he did instead was book him a session with a mental health specialist.

After a series of complex tests, Aoba was diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder.

The diagnosis hit him hard. He had no idea who he was anymore, and shortly after, his life began to spiral out of control. He began drinking heavily, smoking, taking drugs. He stayed out later and later until, eventually, he simply stopped going home.

He'd crash wherever he could. Mostly with friends at the beginning, then people he knew but wouldn't exactly call friends, and then even with strangers. Some nights, he'd even take to sleeping in alleys.

This was one of those nights. Aoba was shaking all over, covered in who even knows what, barely able to keep his eyes open.

“Are you alright?” a voice asked.

Aoba forced his eyes to open, but all he saw was the blurred silhouette of a person.

Said person knelt down before him and reached a hand out, resting it on the side of his neck. “You're burning up!” he exclaimed, a worried edge to his voice.

Through the fog of his inebriated mind, Aoba felt the world tilt as he was lifted by the stranger. “Don't worry, I'm taking you home,” the stranger said. And that's when Aoba lost consciousness.

* * *

 

He woke up hours later, still dazed, still dizzy. He found himself laying on soft sheets and for a moment pondered if he'd finally died, and was feeling the lining of his casket.

A sudden jolt in his stomach rid him of that thought in an instant.

He shot up, hand covering his mouth. He threw himself off the bed he was in to dash to the bathroom, but his legs buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor with a loud thud. He thought he heard something fall off a shelf and shatter, but that was the least of his troubles right now. He grabbed a nearby plastic bin and vomited into it.

He spent what felt like hours heaving and coughing into that bin, his throat burning and tears beginning to flow. God, he hated vomiting.

“Are you alright?” a worried voice called in as the door swung open.

Aoba looked up to see a man looking at him with concerned, pink eyes. “Yeah,” he replied, pushing his sweaty fringe from his forehead. “Sorry 'bout your bin.”

The stranger shook his head. “That's what it was there for.”

Taking a few deep, calming breaths, Aoba glanced around the room, then back to the stranger. “I got your sheets all dirty and gross.” He frowned, finding enough strength to pull himself to his feet, taking his time on his weak legs.

“That's perfectly fine,” the stranger replied. “they can easily be changed.”

“Also, I think I knocked something off a shelf. Pretty sure it broke.”

“Don't worry about it.”

Aoba scrunched his nose. “Are you always this sickeningly nice?”

The stranger smiled, shrugging his shoulders. “I'm afraid so,” he said, chuckling.

Aoba returned his smile, huffing out a quiet laugh of his own. “Can I use your shower?”

* * *

As Aoba showered, the stranger made breakfast, over which they shared conversation. Aoba was surprised to hear that the stranger, Clear, had simply picked him up from the street and brought him home to care for him. His memory of the previous night was non-existent, and he'd simply assumed he'd gone home with Clear for different reasons.

Clear was obviously relieved to note that Aoba's fever had passed. Instead, he turned his worries the state he'd found him in. “Aoba-san,” he placed his coffee cup in front of him, glancing at Aoba with pinched eyebrows. “May I ask why you were lying in the street like that?”

Aoba furrowed his brows, glaring down at his empty plate. “Because I can't go home,” he muttered. “not even if I wanted to.” He sighed, resting a hand over his eyes.

“Do you wanna,” Clear hesitated, nibbling on his lower lip. “talk about it?”

“No.” Aoba's reply was sharp. Possibly a little too sharp. “I'm really not comfortable talking about it.”

Silence stretched out between them. The conversation was dead and neither could think of a suitable topic to switch to.

After a few painful minutes, Aoba got to his feet. “I should go,” he said, tucking his chair under the table and turning to leave the room, calling a thank you over his shoulder.

“Wait a minute!” Clear jumped up, following after him. “Where are you going to go?” he asked.

Aoba shrugged. “Somewhere, I guess. Can't stay here.”

“Why not?”

Aoba stopped and looked at Clear with a raised eyebrow. “Trust me, you really don't want me here,” he replied.

“I think that's for me to decide.” Clear stood his ground.

And that was the start of the argument that led to Aoba living with Clear.

It was awkward and uncomfortable at first. For Aoba, at least. Clear seemed to adjust to Aoba as effortlessly as he breathed.

For Aoba, life became a struggle. The more time he spent with Clear, the fonder of him he grew. And the fond of him he grew, the harder he tried to hide the darker side of himself. The drugs, the temper, the _dissociation_. But Clear wasn't as air-headed as he seemed. Quite the contrary, he was irritatingly perceptive. He noticed everything.

When Clear realised what Aoba was doing he reacted completely differently to how Aoba had expected. He didn't mask his worry with anger the way his grandmother did, nor did he cry like his brother. Instead, he stayed completely calm. He sat him down and they talked. Aoba answered all of Clear's questions in harsh snaps, and Clear replied with an understanding nod before moving on.

They sat and talked for hours, Aoba's anger turning to self-loathing, and then to tears. Clear held him, promised he'd help in any and every way that he could, and there they stayed for the rest of the night.

* * *

Cutting all the toxicity out of his life cold turkey was the single most difficult thing Aoba had ever had to do.

Scratch that. Second most difficult. The most difficult came when Clear convinced him to contact his family. That was hell.

It was his brother, Sei, who answered the phone. He cried again, happy to hear his brother's voice. Then he started yelling. Did Aoba know how worried they were, how scared they were, how the lived every day waiting for a knock on the door, someone coming to tell them he'd been found dead?

Aoba told him that without Clear, he might have been.

They arranged to meet up and go back to the house that Aoba had grown up in.

Granny yelled, recycling all of Sei's questions, and Aoba simply sat and let her. After the yelling had stopped, both Granny and Sei wrapped him in tight, warm hugs. And Aoba cried.

Despite his family's insistence that he come back home, Aoba continued to live with Clear. The two had formed a comfortable relationship and, while Aoba didn't want to admit it, he wasn't sure he was strong enough to stay clean without Clear's support.

* * *

Months passed, rockily and stressfully, for both Aoba and Clear. They argued frequently, then made up and then argued again.

To anyone who knew the pair, there was no doubt that there was genuine love between them. A strong love. A wanting you to be the best you can be love. Which is what made the arguments so frequent.

Clear wanted Aoba to understand that the chemicals he was putting into his system were _harming him._

Aoba wanted Clear to understand that it was an _addiction,_ not a hobby. He couldn't just quit overnight.

Clear argued back that it had been months.

Aoba cried that he was _trying damnit!_

And so it went. And so it would go again.

At the end of things, Aoba would storm out, returning later with puffy eyes. He would crawl into bed next to Clear and coil himself around the other, weeping softly.

He later told Clear about everything he'd taken since he'd tried quitting, mainly booze and weed. While Clear wasn't happy that he was still taking, he was at least relieved that it was nothing as dangerous as what he'd been on prior.

For a few weeks, everything was fine.

Until Clear found pills in Aoba's pockets one day when he was doing the laundry.

He confronted Aoba immediately, throwing the pills down on the table in front of him. “You lied to me,” he stated, his tone flat.

Aoba opened his mouth. He closed it again when he saw Clear's hurt look, daring him to try and deny it. He sighed. “Yes. I did.”

“Why?”

“You think this is fucking easy?!” Aoba yelled, jumping to his feet. “I hate lying to you, but you fucking flip if I even mention...” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely to the packet of pills on the table.

“I want to help you, Aoba,” Clear stated, still as calm as ever. “But, I can't do that if you can't be honest with me.”

Aoba's head was pounding with just one, repeated thought.

Avoid it.

Avoid getting hurt and walk away.

So he did.

He didn't even grab his jacket off the coat rack. He just made his way to the door.

“Where are you going?” Clear called after him.

“What's it matter?” Aoba snapped. “I'm not your fucking problem, Clear.” He slammed the door behind him.

* * *

 _That Place_ was as it always was. Loud and full. The floor and most surfaces sticky from spilt drinks.

This is where Aoba was in his element, surrounded by a few familiar faces, but mostly strangers. He allowed himself to get lost in the crowd, dancing freely as seemingly armless hands ran across his body.

He danced for hours, pouring any drink he got his hands on down his throat. He willed himself to forget it. Forget that stupid argument, those stupid pills, stupid Clear.

Stupid Clear, who wasn't angry.

Stupid Clear, who was _hurt._

Stupid Aoba, who stormed out and hurt him even more.

He found himself on one of the couches against the back wall, head in his hands, fighting back tears.

He loved Clear. From his goddamn gut. So why the fuck did it seem that all he ever did was hurt him?

Aoba didn't know he was crying until a voice beside him said “What's wrong, baby?”

He turned and found a girl sat beside him, her cherry red hair pinned up at the side, giving her a mature, yet cute look. She gave him a pout, seeing his tears. “Aw, baby, don't cry.” she cooed, grabbing hold of his hand.

Aoba felt her press something into his palm and gave her a questioning look.

She smiled widely, pressing a finger to her lips. “To cheer you up. But you didn't get it from me.” and with that, she winked, and flounced off.

Aoba saw her wrapping herself around a man at the bar. He looked into his hand, where the girl had left a pink pill, around the size of a smartie.

Usually, Aoba knew better than to take something without knowing what it was, but the cherry red girl had said it would cheer him up. And he was too drunk to argue about it.

With a deep breath, Aoba tossed the pill into his mouth, washing it down with a mouthful of Desperados. And that's where his memories begin to get fuzzy.

* * *

When he came to, Aoba's head was pounding. He struggled to pull himself upright as the room spun wildly around him. He gave a low groan, leaning forward into himself and cushioning his head with his arms.

“Ah, good morning.”

Oh, God.

Aoba peeked up at the man stood before him with a poorly hidden grimace. “I'm guessing nothing good happened last night if I'm waking up to you, Trip.” he grumbled, carding a hand through his matted hair.

Trip simply smirked. “How're ya feeling?”

“Shitty, thanks for asking.”

“What do you remember?”

Aoba frowned. He didn't really remember anything, save for Clear. Clear confronting him. Clear's hurt look. Clear, who cared far too much. “Nothing.” he replied.

A tall glass of water was placed on the coffee table next to him, and he looked up to find Virus glancing down at him straight faced. “We need to talk, Aoba.”

Swivelling around to sit properly on the sofa, Aoba met Virus's gaze.

Virus sat in the adjacent armchair, taking off his glasses to wipe them. “Drink the water first.” he ordered.

Dubious, Aoba reached a tentative hand for the glass, his mind running through all of the scenarios that the impending conversation could induce. He brought the glass to his lips and swallowed the water in four big gulps.

Finally, Virus showed his usual smile. Or, rather, a toned down version of it, which only served to provoke Aoba's ill feeling. “I would be thirsty, too. If I'd been out cold for three days.”

“Three days?” The glass in Aoba's hand slid from his grip and fell to the floor, landing with a soft thud against the thinly carpeted floorboards.

Virus simply nodded a confirmation. “It's a… long process.”

“What is?”

Virus and Trip simply looked at each other, each nodding in turn. Trip took a seat next to Aoba, reaching out and holding the other's chin, looking into his eyes. “You really don't remember? Anything? Not even the pill you took?”

Aoba tensed. Trip was intimidating enough, without having him so close, physically making sure you didn't look away from him. “What, that little pink thing?” he asked.

“That _little pink thing,_ ” Virus spoke up. “was a very powerful depressant. Which _you_ washed down with alcohol. Shortly afterwards, you decided it would be a good idea to take an array of other pills, not all of them I can account for, but which certainly included more than one hallucinogen and a few stimulants, in short, you were irresponsible, and by the end of the night you could have been anyone's fair game.”

Aoba felt the bile rise in his throat. “Jesus.” he uttered. “I'm lucky to be alive, huh.”

Trip and Virus shared another look. “Well, that's just the thing.” Trip sighed. “You're not.”

“What...” Aoba shifted his focus between the two. “the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Aoba's chest was getting tight. It was getting hard for him to breathe, and his hands were shaking. This was a joke, obviously, Trip never did have a very good sense of humour.

“You overdosed, Aoba.” Virus said, simply. “We found you just as you were fading out and your heart stopped on the ride home.”

“I don't get it.” Aoba shook his head. “If my heart stopped, if I… died, how am I here now? How am I talking to you?” he asked.

Another shared look between the two, followed by a deep sigh from Virus. “We made you… like us.” he stated.

“Like you?”

“A demon.” Trip said it bluntly, with no thought.

Aoba's eyebrows knitted together. He put his head in his hands and let out a shuddering chuckle. “Jesus,” he muttered, looking up with a relieved smile. “You guys almost got me.” He laughed, running a hand through his hair and getting to his feet. “Now, if you're done messing with me, I really gotta go apologise to my boyfriend, so…” he started making his way to the door, when;

“Aoba.” There was something in Virus's tone that stopped him dead. “If you go back to Clear now, you're only gonna hurt him.” he said, bluntly. “We are not messing with you. You died, Aoba. You were and idiot and overdosed on _God knows_ how many different pills.”

A wave of nausea hit Aoba full force. He was dead? A demon, even? But, how was that even possible? Demons were the monsters he read about in story books as a child. Nightmares of religion. They weren't real. He certainly was not one.

But, what if he was? What if Virus and Trip were telling the truth?

Aoba felt sick to his stomach. All he wanted to do was go home, climb into bed with Clear and beg for his forgiveness. They'd cry it out, both of them promising they'd be better to each other. Aoba would swear he was off those pills for good, and this time he'd really mean it. Clear was worth so much more than a cheap high.

“He can never know you're alive, Aoba. You can't go back.”

It didn't need to be said. Virus was being deliberately cruel, and Aoba knew it.

“I need to clear my head.” Aoba's voice was cracked and shaky. He rushed out of the apartment before either Virus or Trip could say a word to stop him.

He ran. And he kept running until he reached the familiar apartment block. He ran up the four flights of stairs and stopped dead in front of the old wooden door. Oak effect with jellyfish painted over it in luminescent blue paint.

Clear couldn't see him. That was the rule. He could be in and out of the apartment with Clear ever knowing anyone had been there. He just needed to see it once more.

Aoba dug his key out of his shoe, hesitantly sliding it into the lock.

The door opened with a quiet creak, the creak that Aoba had been meaning to deal with for weeks. He stepped into the apartment with a caution he'd never even realised he was capable of. And for the longest time, he simply stood there.

This apartment was everything to him, though it had taken his death for him to realise it. Everything was here. The old guitar from when he'd attempted to teach himself to play. The burn up the kitchen wall from when he'd left the stove on. The couch where he and Clear spent so much time just holding each other.

A sob from the bedroom shook him out of his reverie. He debated for a moment turning and leaving, yet he found himself walking towards the bedroom. He gently pushed in the wood of the door and it slowly creaked open.

Aoba's heart shattered.

Clear lay on their shared bed, curled around a piece of faded material that Aoba quickly recognised as his old hoodie. His cheeks were red, streaked with tears, hair matted and dressed in a pair of Aoba's lounge pants, even though they rode halfway up his shins.

Aoba couldn't take this. It hurt too much to see Clear in this state because of him. He wanted, so desperately to rouse him. Let him know that he was still here.

_He can never know you're alive, Aoba._

He knew Virus was right. But he so desperately wished he wasn't.

He turned and left, unable to bear it any longer.

It wasn't until he was over a mile away that he even thought to check his phone.

* * *

_One new message. Received on 23/03/20XX at 4:32 am._

“ _Aoba? Look, I'm sorry. Please, just pick up the phone… Earlier you said that you weren't my problem, and you're right. You're right, Aoba, you're **not** my problem. You could never be a problem to me. Please, I just need you to talk to me… I'll be waiting for you at home, okay? I… I love you, Aoba…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I aimed for this chapter to be out just before Christmas, but then something happened. My grandfather passed away, and given the content of this chapter, I really didn't feel like writing. Even now, the wound is still fresh, but I powered through. Or tried to, at least. I'm sorry if this chapter is worse that what you usually get from me. I'm actually really upset with myself, because I had planned for this chapter to be much more emotional and a lot longer, but whatever. Ugh, I haven't updated since July and I hate being that author who's MIA for months at a time.  
> Smarties are like candy-coated chocolates. idk if people elsewhere get them, but I love them!


End file.
